Dream a Little Scheme
by Morrigan the Nightmare Queen
Summary: The girls think Piccolo needs a girlfriend to take care of him. Piccolo strenuously objects. An evil plot is formed, targeting the Namek. Yamcha gets dragged into it all. The author uses unnecessarily short sentences in the summary. R/R please!


Author's Note: This is a fic I've been working on for about a month, ever since I saw episode #145 of Dragonball Z and got instantly hooked. There is major OOC warning in the first chapter, as well as sexual implications in the second, EXTREME political incorrectness in the third, and lots of foul language throughout. Interesting point: if you want to know what's likely to pop up in a chapter, read the disclaimers first. They usually hint that kind of thing.  
Disclaimers: I don't own Dragonball Z, the Polar Institute, Tammy Fae Bakker, sex-change clinics in Sweden, AmISexy.com, Aristophanes, frying pans, Richard Simmons, Spandex, or God. PLEASE DON'T SUE!  
  
  
DREAM A LITTLE SCHEME  
  
by Morrigan, the Nightmare Queen  
______________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
PROLOGUE: DREAMING  
THE SATAN MANSION, 7:30 pm  
  
"Hey, guys, come on in!" Videl Satan exclaimed, pulling open the heavy door of the mansion. There on the porch, sleeping bags and overnight gear in hand, stood her four new best friends: Bulma Briefs, Lunch, Son Chi-Chi, and Juuhachigou AKA Android Eighteen. Mr. Satan was out of the country on a book tour, the respective husbands and boyfriend were training with Master Roshi, and Videl had decided to have a little "girls' night" at the vacant Satan home. "Glad you could make it! Any problems with the guys?"  
"Nary a one," Bulma answered as she ushered the other three women over the doorstep. Videl couldn't help sweatdropping as she noticed that Lunch clutched a bottle of Sudafed. "Vegeta wasn't too happy about leaving Capsule Corp. unattended, but I didn't hear *him* volunteering to cut the training trip, so I told him off. He's probably taking it out on Goku right now- sorry, Chi."  
Chi-Chi winked conspiratorially. "Hey, no problem. Goku's always so happy when he gets back from a good fight, and if he's happy he doesn't break furniture so much."  
"A household free of broken dishes- dare we hope?" Juuhachigou joked as she picked up her stuffed shoulderbag.  
"You should know," Chi-Chi retorted. "Your Krillin doesn't break a single thing; I've never met such a well-mannered man in my life!"  
"Oh, he doesn't break things in YOUR house," Juuhachigou said knowledgeably. "But there's something about the domestic scene . . . I don't know. For some reason, on the home front, he is rendered absolutely unable to do the smallest task correctly. I mean, he can't even fold laundry, for Kami's sake!"  
"The strongest human in the world, and he can't fold laundry? You're kidding me!" Videl exclaimed.  
The four women had by now reached the main entrance hall, and four of the five were gazing in shock at the sheer grandeur of the Satane Palace Royale. Bulma was surprised, Lunch was incredulous, Chi-Chi was disbelieving, and Juuhachigou simply decided that the data received was incomparable to any archived information. Videl, however, urged them up a sweeping staircase to the upper levels, where a sumptuous feast of microwave pizza, ice cream, soda, Chinese food, cocoa, coffee and cinnamon buns had been laid out in her private kitchen. The five changed into their pajamas, and raided the kitchen while they continued their conversation.   
"No kidding," Juuhachigou said finally, around a mouthful of cheese pizza. "I'll tell him to fold *gulp* a towel. A hand towel, even. He just can't do it! Somehow, the corners don't match up, and he has to defer to me."  
"Honestly," Chi-Chi joked, grabbing two cinnamon buns as she did so, "What would the boys do without us? They'd be helpless!"  
"That's for damn sure," Videl agreed. "Gohan's so nice, sweet and kind and always worrying about me, but he's sometimes so . . . naive, I guess. Like he believes that nobody in the world can do anything wrong unless they're forced to. He gets it from Goku, I guess."  
"Goten's worse." Chi-Chi replied. "Naive is definitely the word."  
"No fair!" Bulma interjected. "Trunks is a mini-Vegeta now, and that's the kind of thing that gets worse with age instead of better. I caught him writing 'Dad's 10 Rules of Evilness' on the back of my grocery list yesterday!"  
Juuhachigou choked. "And just what were these rules, anyway?"  
Bulma concentrated. "Hmmm. Uh . . . 'do not presume to touch the Saiyan hair,' that was one. 'A true Saiyan does not condescend to address his mate by her name' was definitely in there. And of course 'mess with the best, die like the rest,' although I think that was just an addenum."  
"No, that's the motto of a true Super-Saiyan," Videl interjected. "Gohan has it scrawled all over the inside cover of his trigonometry notebook, along with rather artistic sketches of everybody he knows as a Super-Saiyan Three." She fingered her short, spiky black hair. "D'you think I'd look good as a blonde?"  
"Naaah," everyone else said.  
"Wait a minute." Chi-Chi sat up straight. "You say he's got it written inside his notebook?"  
"Yeeeesss . . . " the teenager replied.  
"And how do you know that?"  
At the question, Videl blushed frantically. "Well, you see, what with being Satan City's resident superheroine I don't have a lot of time to study in class, so Gohan's agreed to help me out with anything I don't understand. When you and Goku and Goten were out at the Kame House two weeks ago, Gohan let me come over so I could study with him . . . " the blush intensified. Juuhachigou, Bulma, and Chi-Chi exchanged knowing glances.  
"Ooooh!" Chi-Chi squealed happily, stars forming in her eyes. "Grandchildren!"  
"NO!" If possible, Videl turned even redder. "It wasn't anything past first base, honest! But I accidentally knocked his notebook off the bed- uh- I mean table-"  
Chi-Chi clasped her hands together. "Oh, I'm so happy! My baby is going to have a baby! Goku will be so happy!" She shot Videl a sudden, suspicious glance. "When's the wedding? Who's catering? Have you gotten your dress yet? Does your father know? What about invitations? Have you reserved the church yet? Did you pick bridesmaids and ushers? Who's officiating? AND WHY HAS THIS BEEN ON ICE FOR TWO WEEKS?! WE'VE GOT PLANNING TO DO!"  
  
"Boy, I didn't know humans could burst veins like that," Juuhachigou commented as she placed another cool cloth on Chi-Chi's forehead.   
Videl rubbed her own head in frustration. "All I said was that Gohan and I weren't getting married. Why did she have to explode like that?"  
"I think the prospect of her precious son living with a woman who had borne his child, yet not gotten married to, made her brain overload. She didn't stay conscious long enough to hear that you weren't pregnant, either. This IS Chi-Chi we're dealing with- She Whose Thoughts Automatically Gravitate to Grandmotherhood. What's the deal there, anyway? Most women hate getting old."  
"I think it's a well-developed instinct for self-preservation," Bulma interjected. "Living with THREE Saiyans, after all, has got to be difficult. I think she's using the prospect of grandmotherhood as a way of reaffirming her existence in a potentially lethal situation."  
Videl facefaulted. "I think you're overanalyzing, Bulma. Maybe she just wants another kid to dote on?"  
"Yeah, sure," Bulma looked sulky, "But nobody ever got a Ph.D in Relationship Theory for something like *that*- there's absolutely no logical basis!"  
"Speaking of girlfriends and all related topics," Lunch- who had been completely silent up until then- interjected, "You know who needs an SO?"  
"SO?"  
"Significant Other."  
"No, who?"  
"Piccolo."  
"Piccolo Daimao? Mr. Mean Green?"  
"That's the one."  
"Isn't he asexual or something?"  
"Pshaw, when has that ever stopped anyone?"  
"Uh, we don't really have any comparable cases . . . "  
"Shut up, Bulma!"  
"Dende has a girlfriend."  
"He does? Since when?"  
"Since last month. Some redhead chick who doesn't mind green skin."  
"Oh, a Californian?"  
"Close. She's from Las Vegas."  
"How do you find this stuff out, anyway?"  
"Heh heh. I have my sources."  
"Really. Would they happen to be Master Roshi's 'Hottie of the Month' calendar collection?"  
"WHAT?"  
"Well, she WAS featured in there last year . . ."  
"And just how do you know this?"  
"Living in the Kame House for six months, you learn this shit whether you like it or not."  
"Dende will murder you."  
"Isn't this a little off-topic? What about Piccolo?"  
"True- I read somewhere that with a little concentration, Nameks can choose to function as the male or female of a race close to their own. Once the alleles are switched, all you have to do is-"  
"Eewwww, Bulma! WAY too much information!"  
"Hey, it's true!"  
"Whatever. So what are we going to do about Piccolo, anyway?"  
"Well, what kind of girl would he go for?"  
"Are there any Saiyan females around?"  
"None that aren't lesbians, sister."  
"Where'd you hear that?"  
"Vegeta."  
"Oh, sure, go with the reliable source, why don't you!"  
"It sounds logical to me. You see, when one member of a race is constantly motivated to liken itself, genetically and psychologically, to another of the opposite gender, then it derives that they should become attracted to their own original-"  
"SHUT UP, BULMA!"  
"Alright, then," Lunch pointed out, "We agree: Piccolo is a guy. Therefore, he needs a girlfriend."  
"Why?" Juuhachigou queried.  
"Men must have women to look after them. It's a fact of life."  
Bulma shook her head. "Yamcha doesn't have one. Or Juunanagou, either."  
Juuhachigou gave her a weird look. "Yamcha's a dickhead. And if you show me the woman who'd want to date my brother, and I'll show you a woman who doesn't appear to have much cranial activity. He's a jinzouningen, Bulma! As am I! You can't base relationship theory on artificial humans."   
"Point. But you and Krillin seem to have a pretty successful relationship," Lunch pointed out. "If a four-foot formerly bald ki fighter with sentient eyebrows can live in harmony with a five-foot-six cyborg who has- forgive me- dubious origins and a mean roundhouse, then I think we can find a girl for Piccolo."  
"What kind of female would go for a six-foot green guy with no hair?" Bulma wondered. "Tammy Fae Bakker?"  
"Who?"  
"Who?"  
"Who?"  
"Who?"  
Bulma sweatdropped. "Euh . . . televangelist from the 1980s."  
"I don't think so." Juuhachigou said flatly.   
Suddenly, Chi-Chi sat straight up, sending the cloth on her head flying across the room. "Are you picking a match for Piccolo without my input?" she demanded, apparently having forgotten her earlier outburst.  
"Yeah- you were unconscious." Videl replied.  
"Never mind that. Look," Chi-Chi was hopping around in excitement, "There's one surefire way to find a list of women who would go out with Piccolo! And you know what that is?"  
"Transvestites, Inc.?" Lunch asked dryly.  
"The patient registry for a sex-change clinic in Sweden?" Bulma guessed.  
"Master Roshi's calendar collection?" was Juuhachigou's contribution.  
"All the women who ever dumped Yamcha?" Videl, of course.  
"No!" Chi-Chi drew them all into a conspiratorial huddle. "The Internet!"  
  
Fifteen minutes later, the girls were in their sleeping bags, all circled like pioneer wagon trains in event of an Indian attack. Which, considering what would happen if Piccolo found out about this, was a pretty accurate description. Videl, who had the neatest handwriting, squinted at the list they had compiled.  
"Alright, ladies, we've got a plan." She said in an official-sounding whisper. The other four giggled/snickered, and drew closer to peer at the list as well. "Secretary Frying Pan, would you care to do the honors?"  
"Of course, Captain Lucifera." Chi-Chi, obviously proud of her codename, plucked the list out of Videl's hand and ran her finger down it. "This marks the official beginning of Operation: Girlfriend!"  
"Hear, hear!" Chorused Lieutenant Breakfast, Colonel Gin & Zingen, and Sergeant Aristophanes.   
"The plan is this." Chi-Chi said. "Stage One: Two days from now, at ten hundred hours sharp, Sergeant Aristophanes will place a phone-call to the Polar Institute in Antarctica. She will order twenty gallons of glacier water, to be encapsulated and delivered to Base Corporation. The shipment will arrive by fourteen hundred hours, in a yellow plane that will land on the lawn of Base Corporation. Aristophanes will be there to receive it.  
"HOWEVER, Stage Two will begin implementation at thirteen hundred twenty. Captain Lucifera will be with ally Food2, presumably 'dallying' on the lawn. Nothing too dirty, mind you, it's in public after all. Lucifera will seem to overhear Aristophanes announcing that she has taken a shipment of fresh glacier water for an experiment, and will return with Food2 to Enemy Encampment Lookout. There, Lucifera will alert Target Green as to the presence of the water, and Target Green will immediately return to Base Corporation in hopes of attaining it."  
"Sounds good," Juuhachigou said, nodding. "But where do Breakfast and I come in?"  
"I'm getting to that. At fourteen hundred hours precisely, Target Green will have left the Lookout. Lieutenant Breakfast and Colonel Gin & Zingen are required to excuse themselves from family activities NO LATER than thirteen hundred hours, in order to be ready for Stage Three. Breakfast will distract Secondary Targets God and Turban, while Gin & Zingen will network herself with Target Green's private laptop and create the necessary accounts at DatingService.com, AmISexy.com, and The Love Connection. If everything goes well, all parties should reassemble at Base Corporation by no less than fifteen hundred thirty. All clear?"  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"  
"Excellent." Chi-Chi folded up the list. "Now pass me one of those cinnamon buns, would you, Lunch?"  
  
Next day . . .   
"Vegeta," Bulma asked sweetly, "Would you mind staying out of my lab today? I'm working on a new component for something, and it's going to be like a steam bath in there. You know what steam does to Spandex, right?"  
Never having done a domestic task in his life, Vegeta did *not* know what steam did to Spandex, but from the woman's tone of voice it didn't sound good. "Alright, fine," he grumbled. "But the gravity room had better not break, woman, or I AM coming in there after you!"  
"Fine by me," Bulma replied evenly. "Trunks could use a little sister."  
The Saiyan gulped. Upon the unfortunate evening of Trunks's conception, his parents had been testing the encapsulized sauna/hot tub set that Bulma had just invented. Seeing the woman completely naked, all flushed red and sweaty from the steam, had caused Vegeta to completely lose control of himself and ravish her right then and there. Bulma's apparent 'flu the next morning, and the horrific pronouncement from the doctor, would forever stick in his mind as the worst moments of his life. A child? Worse, MULTIPLE childs? Vegeta hurriedly retreated.  
Snickering, Sergeant Aristophanes went to the telephone.  
  
"Did you hear that?!" Videl, who had been lying next to Gohan on the Capsule Corporation front lawn, sat straight up. Across the grass, Bulma and Dr. Briefs were talking animatedly. Bulma appeared to be carrying a cellphone.  
"Hear what?"  
"Bulma said something about shipping in glacier water! I just heard it myself!"  
"Whoa! Glacier water?" Gohan shot up as well. "Piccolo loves that stuff! Think we should go tell him about it?"  
"Sure." Gohan failed to notice Videl's evil grin. "I'm sure Bulma can't use all of it . . . "  
  
"Gin & Zingen and Breakfast are in place. Proceeding with Stage Two immediately."  
  
Far above, on the Lookout, Piccolo sat in deep meditation. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face, his teeth clenched, every fiber of his being concentrated on the mysterious energy he now sensed. Something terrible and evil was about to happen, but he couldn't tell them . . . no, it would ruin their lives. Two years now since Majin Buu . . . two years of peace, only to be shattered by this new and unearthly threat he now felt in his mind-  
Actually, he was playing Final Fantasy XXI on Dende's new PlayStation 8. And having a pretty rough time of it, too.  
"Goddammit, Karuna!" he yelled at the screen, green thumbs twitching wildly as he manipulated the controller with practiced fervor. "What do I have to do to get the Master Meteo?! Get down and BEG?! GOD DAMN IT! DAMN IT ALL!"  
"Piccolo!" A voice called from the next room.  
"Yes?"  
"Stop taking my name in vain!"  
"Oh, right. Sorry."  
There was a soft thud outside the window, and two minutes later, Gohan and Videl came pounding into the room. "Piccolo! Piccolo!" Videl squealed. "You won't believe this! Bulma's bringing in twenty gallons of glacier water from Antarctica, and it's being delivered to Capsule Corporation right now!"  
Piccolo snarled, deep in his throat. There hadn't been any 'new and unearthly threat,' but this was pretty damn close. Thank God for-  
"PICCOLO!"  
-thank KAMI for Namekian psychic powers. Gohan's woman was planning something, and it definitely involved him. And when Gohan's woman planned things, it was usually in connivance with Goku's woman. And when Goku's woman planned things, it was only one thing. Matchmaking. Oh shit. Oh, SHIT.  
"Piccolo, watch your language!"  
Sorry.  
Videl and Gohan were looking sideways at Piccolo now; the water had been mentioned a full 30 seconds ago, and he still hadn't moved a muscle, yet Dende was chewing him out from the next room in a one-sided conversation. Gohan scratched his head curiously, but Videl instantly panicked. Did he know? Could he know? Were . . . fuck. Nameks were psychic, right?   
Screw subtlety.  
"RUN AWAY!" Videl screamed and launched herself out the window, going from 0 to 60 in three seconds flat. Not that it did any good. Piccolo growled, dropped the console (leaving his characters in the middle of a critical boss fight, Gohan noted) and blew out through the open door like a crazed green hurricane. He caught up to her within seconds, catching the struggling ki fighter around the shoulders and pinning her arms to her sides. Hopefully, flying at 100+ mph would disorient her enough to keep her from kicking him, especially anywhere . . . sensitive. Nameks may not have the required equipment to make it really hurt, but the essential core maleness buried deep in Piccolo's persona was frantically telling him that it would not be a pleasant experience to try and train while walking splay-legged for a week. Plus, Yamcha would laugh- and when your situation is pathetic enough for Yamcha to laugh at you, then your life could use a definite reevaluation.  
By the time they got back to the Lookout, Videl was completely disoriented, not to mention dizzy. Piccolo had circled the continent a few times, just to throw her off-balance, and now she appeared to have a great deal of trouble maintaining her balance. Either that, or she had somehow gotten hold of a bottle of vodka mid-flight, and for some reason the Namek didn't think that was too likely.  
"Videl." Piccolo snarled, once she had regained her balance. Mr. Satan's daughter trembled visibly. "I want to know what you and Chi-Chi have been planning. That, and how it involves me."  
"We- we-" Videl flattened herself against the wall. "We- uh- ah-"  
"I'm waiting." Part of being a good warrior is appearance, and right now, Piccolo was getting full marks in Evil Appearance and Intimidation. Narrowed eyes, clenched fangs, crossed arms, mysterious wind whipping his cape around dramatically . . . he was a master. And people wonder that Gohan enjoyed training with this guy? "What. Were. You. Planning?"  
"L- lun-"  
"Alright, l.u.n., that's a good start. Care to expand on that . . . before I expand on your broken body?"  
  
Hold it! That line's no good. Piccolo, that sounds like you're a necrophiliac. Videl, get this done before next Tuesday, would you? Try it again.  
Videl and Piccolo rolled their eyes skyward. "The Author," Videl groaned. "Can't you people write ONE bloody story without turning into a nightmare of self-inserts and yaoi?"  
Hey, at least I don't write OC fics! Well . . . not too much, anyway. I do have that one 'Dragonball Eternity' coming u-  
"CUT THE ADVERTISEMENTS!" Piccolo roared. "REWIND THE FUCKING STORY AND LET'S TRY IT AGAIN, DAMMIT!"  
Holy guacamole! Keep your gi on, I'm workin' on it . . . takes a while to retype a whole scene, you know.  
"Uhhh . . . " Videl scratched her head. "Copy/paste?"  
Oops. Alright, here we are:  
  
"Videl." Piccolo snarled, once she had regained her balance. Mr. Satan's daughter trembled visibly. "I want to know what you and Chi-Chi have been planning. That, and how it involves me."  
"We- we-" Videl flattened herself against the wall. "We- Lunch- Chi-"  
"I'm waiting." Part of being a good warrior is appearance, and right now, Piccolo was getting full marks in Evil Appearance and Intimidation. Narrowed eyes, clenched fangs, crossed arms, mysterious wind whipping his cape around dramatically . . . he was a master. And people wonder that Gohan enjoyed training with this guy? "What. Were. You. Planning?"  
"We were- were just thinking-"  
"Alright, thinking, that's a good start. Care to explain that . . . before I explain the intricacy of dissection?"  
  
Good.  
  
"SHUT UP." Videl went back to trembling. "We- we were having a sleepover, and we started talking about all the boys . . . you know, the oth-"  
"I know them. Go on."  
"You see, we talked about how stupid they were, and then Lunch suggested you needed a girlfriend, so . . . "  
"So you've been putting together an elaborate plan to find me a human female," the Namek snapped. "Did it ever cross your tiny, hormone-immersed mind that I. Am. Not. A. Human. MALE?"  
"Yeah, but you act like one," Videl pointed out shrewdly. "You have a man's voice, and you look like one too; that's a lot better than most human guys these days, right?"  
"Well, you look like Richard Simmons," Piccolo growled. "But you don't see me forcing you to dance around like a sissy, do you?"  
"Actually, there was that one time-"  
"I was drunk!"  
"That's no excuse. I mean, I didn't know they even *did* the tango on Namek."  
*Snarl*  
" . . . fuck. I wasn't supposed to mention that, right?"  
"You are dead, woman."  
"Hey, who the hell are you, Vegeta?"  
" . . . "  
"Well?"  
" . . . "  
"Hah. Mad that I got some dirt on you, huh? You know, I have these great shots from the security cams- if you want, I can send them to all the Z-"  
"Just get all your cronies up here."  
"Ooooh, I win, right? So who's it gonna be? Right? Huh?"  
"Let me rephrase that. Get all your cronies up here or I will give your father a complete account of everything you and Gohan did last Saturday night."  
[Sweatdrop] "You wouldn't!"  
"I would."  
"How did you find that out, anyway? Have you been spying on me?!"  
"I'm psychic, Videl. Gohan was thinking about it quite a lot- the details weren't exactly hard to pick out. Quite an educational experience, no doubt; I didn't think he would go Super Saiyan like that, especially when you were-"  
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"  
"Heh heh."  
"Since when are you this evil, anyway?"   
"You think THIS is bad, babe, then you should've been here thirteen years ago. Aaaaah, those were the days . . . sunshine . . . cool water . . . peaceful vales and valleys . . . the screams of the tortured and dying . . . sweet memories . . . "  
[MAJOR sweatdrop] "OK, I'll call them- and I think I'd better call the nice men in the white coats, too."  
"You try, you die."  
"Actually, I try, THEY die."  
"You try, and you all die. Period."  
  
Videl scurried off to go tell the other girls. Piccolo, standing alone on the Lookout, tilted his head back and glowered at the heavens.  
"I don't suppose you could have made me at least SLIGHTLY in character?"  
  
At least you're not hopping into bed with Mirai Trunks. Count yourself lucky.  
  
"Thanks . . . I think." 


End file.
